I took them off, and my stockings also.  She then sent me a long distance, on an errand.  As I went through the snow, my bare feet tingled.  That night I was very hoarse; and I went to bed thinking the next day would find me sick, perhaps dead.  What was my grief on waking to find myself quite well!

I had imagined if I died, or was laid up for some time, that my mistress would feel a twinge of remorse that she had so hated “the little imp,” as she styled me.  It was my ignorance of that mistress that gave rise to such extravagant imaginings.

Dr. Flint occasionally had high prices offered for me; but he always said, “She don’t belong to me.  She is my daughter’s property, and I have no right to sell her.”  Good, honest man!  My young mistress was still a child, and I could look for no protection from her.  I loved her, and she returned my affection.  I once heard her father allude to her attachment to me, and his wife promptly replied that it proceeded from fear.  This put unpleasant doubts into my mind.  Did the child feign what she did not feel? or was her mother jealous of the mite of love she bestowed on me?  I concluded it must be the latter.  I said to myself, “Surely, little children are true.”

One afternoon I sat at my sewing, feeling unusual depression of spirits.  My mistress had been accusing me of an offence, of which I assured her I was perfectly innocent; but I saw, by the contemptuous curl of her lip, that she believed I was telling a lie.

I wondered for what wise purpose God was leading me through such thorny paths, and whether still darker days were in store for me.  As I sat musing thus, the door opened softly, and William came in.  “Well, brother,” said I, “what is the matter this time?”

“O Linda, Ben and his master have had a dreadful time!” said he.

My first thought was that Benjamin was killed.  “Don’t be frightened, Linda,” said William; “I will tell you all about it.”

It appeared that Benjamin’s master had sent for him, and he did not immediately obey the summons.  When he did, his master was angry, and began to whip him.  He resisted.  Master and slave fought, and finally the master was thrown.  Benjamin had cause to tremble; for he had thrown to the ground his master—­one of the richest men in town.  I anxiously awaited the result.

That night I stole to my grandmother’s house; and Benjamin also stole thither from his master’s.  My grandmother had gone to spend a day or two with an old friend living in the country.

“I have come,” said Benjamin, “to tell you good by.  I am going away.”

I inquired where.

“To the north,” he replied.

I looked at him to see whether he was in earnest.  I saw it all in his firm, set mouth.  I implored him not to go, but he paid no heed to my words.  He said he was no longer a boy, and every day made his yoke more galling.  He had raised his hand against his master, and was to be publicly whipped for the offence.  I reminded him of the poverty and hardships he must encounter among strangers.  I told him he might be caught and brought back; and that was terrible to think of.